White Lies
on the outdoor dining terrace of one of the luxurious golf course resorts near Scottsdale. The tiered swimming pools and the unnaturally green expanse of the course beyond gave an illusion of balmy comfort. In reality, although it was only eight forty-five in the morning, the heat was building fast. It would have been uncomfortable sitting outside had it not been for the awning, the overhead fans and the misters that spewed forth a cloud of tiny water drops that evaporated almost immediately.
    “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay at Mom and Dad’s place?” Elizabeth asked one more time.
    “No,” Clare said.
    “I’ll be there, don’t forget.”
    “It wouldn’t be fair to Myra. I cause her enough stress as it is.”
    Elizabeth made a face, acknowledging the truth of that statement without words.
    “Stop worrying,” Clare said. “I’m fine where I am. I’ll only be in town for one more night, anyway. No big deal.”
    The waiter appeared, bearing a cup and saucer.
    “Your green tea,” he said to Clare.
    Clare looked at the bag perched on the saucer. The tea was a generic brand, and she was pretty sure the water was going to be lukewarm.
    “Thank you,” she said. She unwrapped the little bag and lowered it into the cup.
    She had been right about the water.
    Elizabeth chuckled. “You ought to know better than to order green tea in Arizona. This is coffee country.”
    “Unlike the Desert Dawn Motel, this is a high-end resort that caters to affluent travelers from around the world. You’d think they would be able to provide a decent cup of tea.”
    “You remind me of Jake. He’s the only other person I know who drinks tea. I think he likes the green stuff, too.”
    Clare pondered that while she dunked the tea bag up and down in a desperate effort to extract some flavor and caffeine.
    “What do you think of him?” she asked.
    “Jake?” Elizabeth raised one shoulder in an elegant little shrug. “He seems nice enough. He must be competent or Dad wouldn’t have hired him.”
    “Do consultants always get invited to Glazebrook cocktail parties?”
    “It’s not so unusual.” Elizabeth forked up a bite of her eggs Benedict. “Dad has always made it a practice to invite his upper management team to social functions. He gives them memberships at the Stone Canyon Country Club, too.”
    “But Jake is an outside consultant, not a vice president.”
    “Dad wants him treated with respect at the office,” Elizabeth said. “That means he has to get the perks of upper management.”
    “I suppose that makes sense.”
    Elizabeth smiled. “What’s with the curiosity about Jake Salter?”
    “I’m not sure, to be honest,” Clare said. “He just struck me as a bit unusual, that’s all.”
    Talk about a bald-faced lie. Jake wasn’t just abit unusual. He was off the charts, at least as far as she was concerned. No other man had stirred the hair on the nape of her neck or aroused her feminine instincts the way he had last night.
    “That’s funny,” Elizabeth said. “Jake always strikes me as being just what he is. A pleasant, somewhat dull business consultant.”
    Were they talking about the same man? Clare wondered.
    “He’s registered with the Society, you know,” she said.
    “Yes.” Elizabeth stirred her coffee. “But what’s so odd about that? It’s not surprising that Dad would look for a sensitive when he decided to employ a consultant.”
    “No,” Clare agreed.
    “My understanding is that Jake is a mid-range talent. Maybe a level five or six. No more.”
    Clare went still.
    “What?” Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Don’t tell me he hit on you last night?”
    “No.”
    She did a quick rerun of her conversation with Jake. It occurred to her that he had never actually mentioned his level of sensitivity. She had just assumed it was very high; no, she hadknown that it was high with every intuitive fiber of her being.
    What was going on here? Were her instincts that far off or had Jake lied to Archer and the rest of the Glazebrooks about the strength of his psychic

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